What Just Happened?
by Renee6061
Summary: Missing scene from "Recruit." Clark begins to deal with the consequences of having Lois as a houseguest.


Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Not my characters.

Author's note: Missing scene from "Recruit." Thanks for the help, Smallvillian!

What Just Happened?

Clark slipped as unobtrusively as possible into the kitchen, only to find two pairs of eyes trained directly on him.

"Hi, guys," he offered, a little sheepishly.

"Clark." His father spoke as if something were starting to become clear to him. "Maybe you could explain why Lois just came through here announcing she was gonna take a shower."

Clark dropped melodramatically into a chair and buried his head in his arms. "Because I just did the dumbest thing I've ever done in my entire life," he replied, his voice muffled.

"Oh?" Martha asked warily. "And what would that be?"

He heaved a sigh. "I invited Lois to stay with us."

Jonathan and Martha exchanged bewildered glances. "To stay with us?" Martha repeated. "Isn't she supposed to be in school?"

"She got kicked out. For drinking."

At the pause that followed, Clark lifted his head to see both of his parents gazing at him expressively. "But it's okay," he added as convincingly as he could. "She's sworn off alcohol from now on. The thing is, her dad won't let her come home, and Chloe's apartment is too small, and . . . well, I . . . I just. . . ."

"Invited her to stay here," Martha finished for him. "Without checking with us. For the second time."

"I know. I'm sorry, Mom. But—" He shrugged. "Well, you always seem glad to take in strays. I guess I didn't think you'd mind." _I didn't even think about whether_ I'd _mind until it was too late_, he thought ruefully.

Martha didn't answer him right away. Her eyes had narrowed in thought.

"Mom?" Clark prompted. He didn't know what her expression meant, but he wasn't sure he liked it.

"Clark, honey—" There was an odd tone in Martha's voice. "Is there—anything we should know? About you and Lois?"

Clark stared back at her, confused. "What are you—" His confusion suddenly gave way to stark horror. "What? No! No way, Mom, there's nothing like that." She was still looking at him strangely. "Mom, come on. You know how Lois is. She's rude, and annoying, and . . ."

"Persuasive?" Jonathan suggested.

Clark slumped down in his chair. "Extremely." He looked up and added emphatically, "But that doesn't mean I like her."

"Well." Now Martha was all business. "Since you're Lois's host, you can go put fresh sheets on your bed for her. You'll have to take the couch again. Then you can come back down and help me start dinner."

"Aw, Mom . . ."

"Clark, you heard your mother," Jonathan said firmly. "Go on, now."

With another eloquent sigh, Clark got to his feet and dragged himself upstairs. _Why do I keep getting myself into these situations for a girl I don't even like?_

When Clark was gone, his parents looked at each other again. Jonathan finally spoke.

"You don't seriously think . . . ?"

Martha shook her head, perplexed. "I'm not sure what to think. It sounds crazy, but every once in a while, it seems like I pick up this vibe from the two of them—I don't even know how to describe it."

Jonathan started to smile. "Just because she walked in on him in the shower. . . ."

"No, even before that. Ever since they first met. It just seems like there's something—"

She was interrupted by a loud yelp from upstairs.

"Geez, Clark! What do you think you're doing?"

"Lois!" Clark had apparently turned into a soprano on the spot. "I thought you were in the bathroom!"

"Your bedroom door's closed, so you think I'm in the bathroom? Way to use the old brain, Smallville."

Jonathan gave a snort of laughter before he could stop himself.

"It's MY room!" Clark protested. "I don't expect to find half-dressed girls in it, even if the door's closed!"

"It's _usually_ your room," Lois corrected him with ostentatious patience. "Until you very generously offered it to _me_. And I don't appreciate teenage boys barging into it while I'm getting ready for a shower. You might wanna make a note of it for next time, okay?"

"Barging in? Look who's talking! You're the one who _invented_—"

The door banged shut.

As the sounds of a teenage boy spluttering with rage died away, Martha turned to her husband again.

"Of course, I could be wrong."

The End


End file.
